Something, Um, Very Strange is Happening
by punchkicker15
Summary: Giles grapples with the news of Willow's death in Doppelgangland. Written for the whichwillow ficathon. Prompt: Choose one Scooby and describe their thoughts when they think Willow is dead (any POV allowed except Willow's)


Giles put away the volumes he'd been cross-referencing. It wasn't an urgent project, but he'd needed a distraction from fretting over Buffy's and Faith's upcoming examinations. No matter how idiotic and counter-productive the Council had been lately, they could still be useful to Buffy and Faith in the future. He didn't want either of the girls to completely burn bridges.

He heard someone enter the library.

"Oh, Buffy. I thought you were going out tonight. I didn't expect—"

Buffy and Xander looked despondent. Had something happened with Faith? He'd truly believed that she'd needed help and understanding, not the incarceration and punishment that the Council wanted. But if he'd been wrong and Faith had hurt, or God forbid, killed someone else? There could be no telling how much damage a rogue Slayer might do. There were several volumes dedicated to the crimes the last rogue Slayer committed before the Council had dealt with her-

But it wasn't about Faith at all.

It was Willow.

His mind turned first, by reflex, to the practical details. He could tell Oz, Cordelia, Faith, and Wesley the truth, but what on earth would he tell Willow's parents? "Gang violence" was the popular excuse when a student was killed and there was a body left behind. But how to warn the Rosenbergs that their own child might try to kill them? Or, later, what could he possibly say to them when all that was left of their daughter was a pile of ashes? Snyder had always handled the discussions with parents; for the first time, Giles felt a flash of sympathy for that vile little man.

There were also the questions of how and why this had happened. He'd told himself (or rationalized) that involving the other students would make them safer. That having Buffy near and invested in their safety would protect them. But what if it had made Willow a target? What if someone had turned her to get at Buffy?

If Willow had been turned for that purpose, why did she reveal herself to Buffy at The Bronze, rather than attacking Buffy first? Why give up the element of surprise? Was this part of some twisted mind game by Willow's sire? He wondered, once again, if Angel had returned from Hell with his soul completely intact. Or whether the soul truly mattered—he knew well enough the horrors that humans with souls could inflict.

Of course, he couldn't rule out other reasons for her turning—her intelligence could be the attraction. There were all sorts of demons that might covet a keen and analytical intellect for their own purposes. Faith had just staked the Mayor's right-hand vampire; it was possible that Wilkins wanted someone a bit more intelligent to aid him in whatever he had planned. If only Giles could find out who Willow's sire was, he could track him down, make him pay for this atrocity-but that was a distraction from the immediate crisis. Justice could come later.

Perhaps magic could have been involved. When he was younger, adolescence and magic had given him an illusory sense of invulnerability. He wondered if Willow could have been affected the same way. He'd hidden the Marenschadt and some of the other darker texts, but there were other ways she could have run into trouble. Last week, Willow had been chattering enthusiastically about a spell to create artificial sunshine. Could she have gone out to try it on a vampire? But Willow wasn't like his younger self. She volunteered for long nights of reading dense medieval texts and fighting vampires without Slayer strength or reflexes. When he was her age he'd taken every opportunity to avoid those kinds of responsibilities. He couldn't imagine Willow would do something so reckless.

A desperate hope leapt to mind. Perhaps they could find another Orb of Thesulah. He might not be powerful enough to perform the restoration spell, but he knew people who could. They couldn't undo Willow's turning, but perhaps he could spare Buffy another loss of a friend. But reality came crashing down again. The spell was a curse befitting a centuries-old monster like Angelus, not a vibrant young woman only recently turned. Would Willow really want to live in the shadows, forever a teenager while her friends and family aged, with Angel as her only peer? A quick staking would be the most humane fate for her.

Somehow they had all ended up sitting on the library stairs. Buffy and Xander both looked shell-shocked. He was sure he looked the same. All of them were numb now. The grief, pain, and anger would come later.

"This isn't real," Xander said.

Giles understood; this situation felt somehow impossible to him too. He'd known, even before he met her, that Buffy was likely to die young. It was the way of the world: Slayers had a few moments of fleeting glory before dying and calling another.

Willow's death? Somehow, he'd never been prepared for that. He'd expected her to leave Sunnydale for college, on the way to success in whatever field she chose. He'd been so sure she'd grow up into an amazing woman. It was hard to believe that bright future would never happen.

The enormity of the loss started to sink in. Willow was a brilliant girl, the only one who enjoyed research, who loved learning and books and the library as much as he did. But she was also empathetic and wise. When he'd thought Jenny was haunting the school, Willow had gently helped him realize that his grief was clouding his judgment with one straightforward sentence: "Giles, Jenny would never be this mean."

He'd never see Willow again. She'd never scold him for pushing Buffy too hard. He'd never again see her brilliant smile when she'd found the right answer after hours of poring through texts. He'd never argue with her about the most effective way to perform a clouding spell. He'd never hear her blurt out all of her thoughts at once, in an endearing, if sometimes overwhelming, torrent of words.

She was lost, and only he and a few others would ever know how exceptional Willow was. The world would never know that she was clever enough to destroy Eyghon, strong enough to restore Angel's soul while recovering from a coma, brave enough to defend the Hellmouth against vampires when Buffy had run away.

He heard himself saying, "She was truly the finest of all of us."

Had he ever told her that? Probably not. The last thing he'd said to her was a request-no, more like an order-to break into the Mayor's files. And now it was too late to let her know how much she meant to him.

Buffy was talking. The words weren't really registering, but he could tell by her tone that she was finding some way of blaming herself.

He supposed it was a defense mechanism, a way for Buffy to imagine she had control over the universe. He could understand that. The alternative was to accept that people she loved were hurt and killed for no reason at all.

Someone was walking towards the stairs. Willow-but-not-Willow. Willow the human being didn't exist any more. What remained was the demon who had taken over her body. He had to remember that at all times.

"What's going on?" They all just stared.

"Jeez, who died?" Was that supposed to be some kind of black humor?

"Oh, God! Who died?" Really, the demon's mimicry was spot-on, down to the cadences of the voice, the worried expression. He couldn't understand why the demon was going to such elaborate lengths of deception, when she knew that Buffy and Xander already knew the truth. Perhaps this was the demon's last-ditch effort to convince Buffy to spare her. Or worse, there could be some remnant of Willow left in the body, a part that wanted to be staked to end her torment.

Giles knew he should get the unpleasantness over with. Circumstances had forced both Xander and Buffy to dust a close friend in the past; neither one of them should have to do it again. But for reasons that he couldn't understand, he stayed rooted to the spot.

Xander stood up, brandishing a cross. "Back! Get back, demon!"

Finally Giles managed to stand. He should take care of this, spare the others the pain.

But Willow didn't flinch at the cross at all. She stared at it and Xander with a mix of curiosity and confusion, the same look she had when struggling with a particularly problematic translation of prophecy. Giles's mind felt foggy and slow. He didn't want to let down his guard prematurely-he racked his brain for any other explanation for the lack of reaction to the cross and couldn't find one.

Buffy and Xander had already rushed over to hug her. Eventually the message got through to him: Willow was, however inexplicably, alive.

Buffy and Xander had moved away. Buffy was hanging close by, staring at Willow in wonder. Willow looked to him for an explanation: "Giles, do you know what these guys-" and he crossed the distance, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight, until she squawked in protest.

He backed away, apologizing. He had no idea what the hell was going on. He was sure he'd be mortified about his outburst later, but for the moment, none of that mattered. They didn't get many miracles on the Hellmouth, and he would appreciate this one while he could.


End file.
